The Truth About Kenken
by Switch
Summary: Ken has always been sweet, innocent, and naive. Not. What you all believe about Kenken isn't true. He's not as innocent as you think. Caution: Yaoi and KenxRan COMPLETE!!
1. Chapter 1

Amazing. I fell in love with a man with a heart of ice. So I told him and he turned into a Youji-wannabe. Only, Youji is willing to sleep with me.   
  
It's been like this since I was a child, letting anyone who wanted something from me take it. It started when my dad had some business associates that would always look at me. My father used me as a bargaining chip. And Aya thought Takatori was heartless.  
  
Now that I've gotten away from my father, I'm still letting people use me. Omi occasionally needs to just release his frustration, so he comes to me. Youji needs to feel submissive, so he comes to me. Aya never wanted anything from me in that way. So, me being the stupid moron I am, I fell in love with him. It took me a while to figure out if it was really love or not since I've never been loved by anyone or loved anyone in my entire life, but somehow I knew that's what it was.  
  
And Aya hated me for it. He went off on tons of dates while I stayed home, watching soccer and cleaning up the house. I was like the maid or something. Omi was off with a study group while Youji was at a dance club. So I ironed. I need a life.  
  
Once again, it was the anniversary of the day my life became Hell. I'm not talking about the day I killed Kase. Hell, no. This was by far worse. And I wasn't going to let a soul know about it. It was my secret I and I wasn't about to let my closest friends know the one thing I hid from the rest of the world.  
  
Aya left a picture of him and his family in his pocket again. I can't help but stare. They're all so happy. It's so obvious how much they love each other. Why hadn't anybody ever loved me like that? Was there something wrong with me? Was I not good enough? My mother (bitch) would say yes if she were alive, thank whatever deity is up there that she isn't.  
  
Aya walked in and looked at me while I stared at the photo. I didn't even notice him until he snatched the picture out of my hands.  
  
"Why do you have this?" he snarled. Snarled! Really, the guy needs to take anger management classes.  
  
"I was doing the laundry and it was in your pocket. I saved it from the evil washing machine, oh great one." I spat dryly. I was getting really sick of this shit.  
  
He frowned, "What are you so mad about? I thought you were in love with me."  
  
I couldn't believe the malice and taunting I heard in his voice. It totally pissed me off! "That was before you turned into a complete asshole. I mean, God, what the hell, Aya? One minute all you can think about in getting revenge, which I respected even though it creeped me out, and now all you want to do is make me feel like a load of shit. Well, I'm sick of it, Aya. I've been treated like shit my entire life and I didn't really care because I didn't give a shit about them, but you! Christ, Aya, I care about you! I think you're intelligent and interesting and despite your bastard exterior, a good person. Now you decide since I'm a freak, I'm not worth being polite to. You could at least thank me for doing all the fucking housework! You do what, nothing? You visit your sister, work the shop, and kill people. No wonder you're such a cold-hearted sonuvabitch with a fucking sister complex. I can't believe I actually fell in love with you!!"  
  
I paused, taking a breath for the first time since I had started ranting. Aya glared at me. What else would he do?  
  
"Look, sorry, Aya. I've not been myself lately..." Aya just quirks his eyebrows as I apologize. "You know what, I was probably never even really in love with you. Simple infatuation. I'll get over it." I want to run away. Far, far away. I settle for slowly turning and walking to my room, chuckling to myself as I left the dirty clothes in a heap on the floor where I was about to separate and clean them, "I don't even know what love is." 


	2. Chapter 2

I was alone. Again. I get sick of the endless loneliness, day after day. Youji has millions of women who want to be with him. Omi has tons of friends at school and admirers at the shop. Aya had his sister and Sakura. I had no one.   
  
This thought rested heavily in my chest as I left my room and walked down the hall to get ready to make dinner. That's another one of my thousands of jobs.  
  
"You're missing the point, Aya," I heard Youji say in the kitchen, "Ken is not a person. He is a toy. Kritiker put him here to use as such and to relieve us of housework and stuff."  
  
"Youji's right, Aya-kun," Omi added, "While it may seem heartless, he isn't a real assassin. Kritiker just pretends that so that it won't weigh on their conscience. Ken is a toy. That's all he is and all he ever will be."  
  
"When was the last time you slept with him?" Aya asked Youji.   
  
"Last night."  
  
That hurt. I had told Aya how I felt about him two weeks ago and I couldn't help but pray that he didn't ask Omi the same question.  
  
"What about you, Omi? Let me guess. Friday? Thursday?"  
  
"…You aren't going to like my answer."  
  
"Give it to me anyway."  
  
Omi sighed. Don't say it, I mentally chanted, please, just don't say anything.  
  
"About an hour ago."  
  
I didn't want to imagine Aya's face, let alone what he was thinking. I wrapped my arms around my body, knowing I should go, but unable to leave.  
  
"Why would Kritiker do something like that? It just doesn't make sense," Aya muttered.  
  
Youji piped in, "Killing people is a stressful job. Kritiker thought that having someone to fuck would help relieve the stress. It's not like Ken is important. He's basically a walking, talking dildo and if he gets killed in a mission he has deluded himself into believing we need him for, they'll just send someone else."  
  
I couldn't breathe. It hurt so much, hearing those cold, yet true words. I turned around and went back to my room. By then the tears had started pouring from my eyes. I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. For a while, whenever I got out of the shower and saw the fog on the mirror, I would use my finger and write out different adjectives that described me.  
  
I pulled a thick black marker with permanent ink out of my pocket. I had been using it earlier to label prices down at the shop. I pulled off the cap, and proceeded to whisper the words as I wrote them on the reflecting glass.  
  
"Disgusting."  
  
"Vile."  
  
"Pathetic."  
  
"Worthless."  
  
"Whore."  
  
"Slut."  
  
"Loser."  
  
"Murderer."  
  
"Toy."  
  
"Faggot."  
  
I choked back a sob as the last word was smeared onto the once immaculate mirror. I had a few more words.  
  
"Unneeded."   
  
"Unloved."  
  
"Unlovable."  
  
I dropped the marker into the sink and crumpled to my knees. I was broken and crying on the floor. At least I had cloths on. Otherwise, it would've been a typical night. I felt dirty. I was dirty. No wonder no one could love me. I was too gross to love.  
  
I leaned over to the bathtub and crawled in. I turned it on, the switched it to shower mode. I didn't care that the water was cold and it made my teeth chatter. I needed to get clean. All of the dirt and grime that had ever touched me was clinging to my skin and I wanted it off.  
  
Youji knocked on my door and called out, "Ne, Kenken, when are you going to fix dinner?"  
  
When hell froze over.   
  
"Kenken?" he called out, louder this time.  
  
I stood up and shut off the water. He was annoying me. I didn't want to see him, see the mask of false affection on his face that he used on the women he seduced as well as me. I could tell he was getting impatient, but I didn't care.  
  
"KEN!" He shouted. I opened the door, cold water dripping from my skin, hair, and saturated clothing. "Whoa," he said softly, "What happened to you?"  
  
"It doesn't matter," I whispered. I walked down the dark hallway and into the kitchen where Omi was doing homework and Aya was drinking tea. They both stared at me as I walked in.  
  
"Ken-kun, what happened?" Omi asked.  
  
"I said doesn't matter. Could you please try to listen to what I say and take it seriously for once in your life?"  
  
They watched me as I pulled three bowls out of the cabinet and filled them each with cereal. I covered one with milk for Omi, one with water for Aya, and left one plain for Youji.  
  
"There," I said, setting the bowls on the table, leaving a trail with each step, "Enjoy your dinner. Goodnight."  
  
They stared at me as I left. I didn't care. I didn't care about them. I didn't care about what they thought. I didn't care about anything. Nothing mattered. I just went to my room, locked the door, and curled up on my bed while wearing my soaking wet cloths. And I cried. 


	3. Chapter 3

I wonder if they noticed the difference in my behavior. I wonder if they cared. I was just Ken. Ken was just a toy. Why should you care when Ken starts acting different? It's not like it matters or anything.  
  
I had a cold. When Omi had a cold, I made him soup and piled blankets on top of him. When Youji had a cold I went out and bought him some new Playboys. When Aya had a cold, I did all of everything, even working the shop. When I had a cold, they didn't notice and didn't care.  
  
"Ken, would you make lunch?" Omi shouted outside my door. I hadn't come out of my room all day. What makes him think I'd want to now so that I can be his servant? I wasn't going to do it. Not today and not every again. I was a person, not their maid and it was time they started respecting me.  
  
I got out of bed and left my room. The cloths I had worn the night before were still slightly damp and had dried against my skin. It felt strange to walk with my stiff jeans barely letting me move.  
  
Omi was gone by the time I had made it to the kitchen. Probably at the shop or something. It didn't matter. What was I doing? I wasn't going to do this anymore. I couldn't control my hands as they put a pot onto the stove and put water in the pot. I could make ramen in my sleep, so when my body won't listen to my mind, I guess it goes to things I can do without really thinking.  
  
I wanted out of my body. I wished I were a spirit, just wandering around with no dirty physical body to feel pain and anguish and worthlessness.  
  
Aya walked into the kitchen whistling something cute and happy. At least someone was in a good mood. He sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and started putting his shoes and socks on.  
  
"What happened to you?" He asked. He didn't really care. I think he was just a bit curious.  
  
"Does it matter?"  
  
"No, not really."  
  
"Then why did you ask?"  
  
He shrugged, "Just trying to start a conversation."  
  
"You?" I laughed, "Why would you be trying to start a conversation with me?" I asked and sneezed before I continued chuckling.  
  
"So what," he says, "One minute you tell me you're in love with me, then you sleep with our teammates and start mocking me?"  
  
"Your teammates, Aya." I said, "Your teammates, not mine. I'm just the sex toy; remember? That's my only purpose. I'm not a real member of Weiss and I'm probably not a real member of Kritiker either so stop treating me like a child who needs to believe in Santa Clause or the Easter Bunny to feel special because I'm not a child, I don't need to be lied to, and I don't feel special because I'm not special, Aya," I was ranting again. "The Sunday school teachers tell you that everyone is special, well they're not. Omi is with his perky cuteness and innocent act. Youji is with his smoothness and class and all of that shit. You are because you're perfect and beautiful and amazing. I'm dirt. Enjoy your ramen."  
  
I turned to leave. I couldn't handle this anymore. I had done it my entire life and now it was all catching up with me and all I wanted to do was curl up into a tiny ball and disappear.   
  
"Ken, calm down," he said. That made me even angrier than I already was. I turned back to him and glared.  
  
"Calm down?" I asked, "You want me to calm down after you insult my intelligence by trying to talk to me, then get angry at me for doing something I can't control and mock my feelings for you. I'm pissed off and downright suicidal so if I'm a little pissy, I'm not sorry."  
  
Aya looked confused and asked, "What do you mean 'something you can't control'?"   
  
"You think I want to have sex with anyone who tells me to? I don't have a choice, Aya. It's what I was born for and the only reason I'm here. If it weren't for this my father would've killed me years ago and if he didn't, Kritiker would've left me to die after the thing with Kase. Quite frankly, I'm kind of surprised I haven't killed myself yet."  
  
He glared and had that icy fire gleaming in his eyes, "What do you mean 'yet'?"  
  
I was indignant, "You think I can't do it? I will. Just wait. I'll do it when you least expect it. Probably after your sister wakes up, but before I meet her or anything."  
  
He was growling at me now, "Why?"  
  
"You need someone who loves you. I know you don't think that, but you do. Even if you don't love me back, I love you and that's enough for me. I just thought it would be nice to have someone who loves you. Everyone needs someone to love them."  
  
He stared at me. He had that far away look in his eye that made him look incredibly attractive, but then again, Aya always looked incredibly attractive in an insanely annoying but enjoyable way.  
  
"Who do you have?" I was hoping he wouldn't ask that, but he did.  
  
I chuckled evilly because I felt like it, "I said everyone implying 'people'. I'm not a 'people', Aya. I'm slime. Slime doesn't deserve love. Slime just wonders through the Earth going through life full of pity and self-loathing. No one loves slime and if slime does love anyone, they just get mocked and laughed at."  
  
By the time I had finished my little speech, my emotions had spilled out and my voice cracked as the tears began streaming down my cheeks. Everything hurt. My chest and heart ached. My muscles and head were throbbing. All I wanted to do was curl up into a tiny ball and die.  
  
I crumpled to the floor and noticed Aya was staring at me with wide eyes. I tentatively raised my hand to my face and touched my cheek, feeling the wetness. And I started hating myself even more. I had never cried in front of anyone before and I didn't plan on ruining my record now.  
  
"Stop crying," I whispered, but the tears wouldn't stop, "Come on, you stupid little slut, stop crying." Suddenly my words were no longer coming out of my mouth. They were my father's. He'd said them that day… "Stop crying, you fucking whore or I'll give you something to cry about. I said stop crying!"  
  
My own hand came up and struck my across the face and I screamed. I couldn't stop it. I had lost control of my own body. I'd had flashbacks of my father killing my mother, then beating me into silence before, but I had never lost all of my control. Every time, I became the thing I hated most in the entire world, my father, and every time, I couldn't stop it.  
  
At this point, I was slamming my own fist into my face time and again, screaming in agony because it hurt even more then when my father did it since I'm stronger than he ever was.  
  
Then suddenly, Aya grabbed me around the waist and held me close to his chest so that I wasn't able to move. He'd knelt down on the floor next to me just so that he could hold me in his lap.  
  
"Calm down, Ken. It's going to be alright."  
  
"Don't touch me," I whispered, "Stop touching me. You'll get dirty. Just like Daddy," I was in some sort of trance, unable to stop the words from coming out of my mouth, "Daddy was dirty, just like me. Daddy killed Mommy and her red stuff got all over his hands. Then Daddy hit me because Mommy wouldn't get up. Daddy hurt me after that and he smelled bad. Red stuff and stuff from a brown bottle were everywhere. Some of the red stuff came out of my bottom after Daddy hurt me. I was so scared that I hid in my room until men dressed in blue made me come out. I didn't say a word to them because Daddy said that if I did he would hurt me again. Mommy never woke up…"  
  
Then everything went black. I was so scared. Aya was staring down at me, his pretty purple eyes all wide. I wanted to disappear, but instead, Aya had disappeared, so it was alright. The question was what did Aya think of me now? 


	4. Chapter 4

When I woke up, I was in my bed. I had on fresh, clean pajamas and my hair smelled like coconut. I never used coconut shampoo before, but I'd bought a bottle on sale and had just shoved it under the sink, forgetting about it.  
  
I don't know why I remembered that little fact, but it made sure that none of what had happened last night was a dream. How I wished it was. I wished that it had never happened. No one had seen me in such a weak state in years and I was afraid of the repercussions.  
  
I timidly went out into the hallway and made my way to the kitchen. Somehow I knew Aya would be there. Low and behold, there he was, sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and eating a bowl of cereal with water.  
  
"Um, good morning," I whispered. He didn't reply. He didn't even look at me. "Aya? Well, uh, about last night…"  
  
"Fuck off, Ken," Aya growled, still with out looking at me. To say I was surprised was an understatement. Aya only sounded that angry when we discussed Takatori and even then, he never cussed like than.  
  
"Aya, I-"   
  
"I said fuck off, Ken. Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it."  
  
"But Aya-"  
  
"Just shut up. If you're trying to explain last night, don't bother. I know what happened."  
  
"Then why are you so mad at me?" I asked, desperately wanting an answer. I knew I was pathetic, but that didn't matter anymore.   
  
Aya looked up from his paper and glared at me with so much hatred it made my heart burn, "I know last night was some sort of sick plan on yours to try and get me to feel sorry for you. You're a good actor, Ken, but I checked and you're mother died in a car accident. You are one sick whore, and I can barely stand to be in the same room as you, so I would just go back to bed if I were you."  
  
My mouth fell open in shock at his words. He just turned back to his newspaper and ignored me as I stood there, my eyes wide and mouth open as I gaped like a fish out of water. I wanted to die. I had never been in so much pain in my entire life, and believe me, I am saying a lot. He hated me. Before he just thought I was disgusting, now he hates me and … and he called me a whore. That hurt most of all.  
  
I'd been called a whore before. Everyone called me a whore. Father did when he was drunk, Mother did when I came back from business meetings with Father, Youji did when he thought he was talking dirty, Omi whispered it under his breath when he thought I couldn't hear it, and now Aya, the man I'd blindly fallen for, was calling me the same thing.  
  
As I turned to leave, I grabbed a large butcher knife from the knife block and went to my room. I wonder if Aya would care, if I actually took my own life. It wasn't the life of a child-molester or a drug-dealer, but mine. I didn't know if I had the bravery to do it, but I was going to try.  
  
I knew I was taking the easy way out, escaping the pain through death. They could easily find some one else to fill my shoes. Surely I'm not the only pathetic whore who's had self-induced delusions of grandeur.   
  
I hope I am. I hope that no one else ever in the entire world has had to go through the pain that I have. I hate my life. That's why I'm going to end it. Those were my thoughts as I went to my room.  
  
The marker was still in the sink as I went into my bathroom. At this point I was wondering if Aya had even noticed me taking the knife. I picked up the marker and wrote a simple word that held so much hidden meaning behind it that no one ever noticed.  
  
"Coward."  
  
I picked up the knife. I rolled up the sleeve of my left arm. I could do this. I could. I wasn't a coward. Yes. I was. But I did it. The blade sliced through my skin and opened my vein and as the blood poured out, so did the pain. And I smiled as I felt the life and the pain and the constant throbbing ache in my heart fading away, deep inside my body. 


	5. Chapter 5

Light. Light bad. No light. I didn't want to see light. I wanted darkness. Darkness had wrapped itself around me and took me into its depths so that I was gone and lost forever. That stupid light was wrecking my darkness.   
  
In darkness, you are completely surrounded by total nothingness. Nothing can touch you, speak to you, come near, or communicate with you in any way. Darkness is bliss.  
  
Sound. For the first time in who knows how long, I heard noise in my ears. Said ears were ringing and said sound was an annoying little blip. I didn't want to hear it. I wanted to go back to my wonderful darkness.   
  
I could tell I was alone. I can feel when other people are in the room. I can smell them, hear the sound of their breath entering and leaving their lungs, feel the heat radiating off of their skin, and I can say I was alone when my eyes slowly cracked open.  
  
A hospital room was where I found myself when I got my senses in order and concentrated enough to see clearly, which took some time. The heart monitor was beeping. I hated that heart monitor with all of my being. I hated the IV needle that dripped clear fluids into my veins. I hated the bandages that were wrapped around my left fore arm. I hated who ever found my cold, stiff body on the bathroom floor, bathed in a puddle of blood. I hated me.  
  
"Look who's awake," the doctor said as he walked into the room carrying a clipboard. I rolled my eyes at his false enthusiasm. "We were afraid you weren't going to wake up. You've been out for a good three weeks."  
  
"Why?" I whispered, my voice cracking from my dry, cracked lips.  
  
The doctor looked somewhat startled, "Excuse me?"  
  
"Why couldn't you have just let me die? Did you ever think maybe I didn't want you to say me and as soon as I get out of here, I'm going to try again and this time, I'll take you with me? Why save people who don't want to be saved and are currently very depressed, suicidal, and homicidal and all of their emotions are wrapped up into one tiny ball that's buried deep inside and when it breaks loose, it brings all of Hell with it?" I asked with a slight psychotic gleam in my eyes that I knew was there even if I couldn't see it. The doctor looked very, very frightened and I smiled as he called for a nurse.  
  
"Are you going to call my friends?" I asked, slightly still in "Farfarello-mode", as I playfully called it in my mind, "They don't care. They probably want me dead, too. It seems as though you're the only one who wants me to live, Doc. I doubt you would want me to be alive if you got to knew me. I'm not a very nice person. Everyone in the entire world thinks I'm dirt, and I think I'm dirt, too. I don't deserve to be alive, because I'm dirty, nasty, vile, wretched, disgusting-."  
  
A nurse came in and poked a needle into my arm and I put me to sleep. I could still hear their voices.  
  
"We may need to move him to the psyche ward. He seems very unstable," the doctor said.  
  
"Sir, his friends said he'd been through a lot. Perhaps we should contact them."  
  
"Yes, that would be excellent. Do so as soon as possible." 


	6. Chapter 6

~Long chapter to make up for the wait. Sorry it took so long. Enjoy! ^_^ ~  
  
  
I woke up again. I'm certainly getting sick of waking up. I want to go to sleep and never wake up again. I hate life and I don't want it anywhere near me. That sucks when you work at a flower shop. You're constantly surrounded by life and all of it's beauty.  
  
Aya was sitting mext to me in a chair, fast asleep. He looked so sweet and innocent, like he'd never felt pain or sorrow or betrayal, like human blood had never touched his hands, like he'd never taken a life. He was so beautiful, I wanted to grasp his beauty and wrap in my arms so that it was all mine and no one would ever take it away from me. And I hated myself for it.  
  
Everyone always takes things away from me anyway. Everything that's supposed to be mine, someone took away; my virginity, my innocense, my heart, my dignity, practically everything that truly mattered except my life.  
  
And that was the only one I didn't want.  
  
I carefully pulled the IV needle out of my arm and threw it. I practically ripped off the heart monitor sensor. The stupid thing flat-lined and rang out loudly, waking up Aya and causing some doctors to run over.  
  
"Ken." Aya said flatly. I didn't look at him. I refused to look at him. I didn't want to see him and I didn't want him to see me.  
  
"Mr. Hidaka, you could have just calle for a nurse," one obviously annoyed doctor said as the others left. He started to look me over. I glared at him.  
  
"Don't touch me," I whispered when he put his hand on my neck to check my pulse. He looked startled and a little frightened by the hatred and venom in my voice. I sounded like Satan himself in the Garden of Eden. And it made me happy. Finally, people could tell how I felt instead of me filling their world with false smiles and fake words of comfort or compassion. I'm not cute little Kenken. I'm me.  
  
But who is me? Someone I don't like, let me tell you that. I hate myself. I hate myself because I'm weak and in pain and I'm sick of pretending to be strong and hiding all of the angst, hatred, and loathing writhing inside my heart.   
  
I hate Ken Hidaka.  
  
The doctor had been talking to me and checking me over. He said something about sending a nurse to change my bandages and left. I noticed the look of sympathy and lust that he gave Aya who didn't seem to notice. I decided to kill that doctor.   
  
"How are you feeling?" Aya asked. I still refused to look at him. I didn't speak as he sighed angrily at my silence.  
  
We sat there in the empty, sound-less hospital room. I didn't move. I didn't want to. If you stayed still long enough, you would eventually die of something. You could die of anything from not moving. You could die of starvation, dehydration, suffica-  
  
"I'm sorry," Aya said softly, so soft tht I wouldn't have heard it if the room hadn't been completely silent. "I didn't mean to be so callous. I was rude and unthoughtful for me to be so blantantly insulted when you were obviously emotionally unstable. Please except my apology-"  
  
"Would you stop talking like a fucking high school text book? I don't give a flying fuck. I don't ever want to see you again, you arrogant incestuous necrophiliac!"  
  
Aya's eyes grew wide and I never saw his hand coming. It struck my cheek and I glared at him.  
  
"What?! Are you mad, you disgusting pedophile?! Are you shocked that I can use long words and I'm not as stupid as everyone thought?! Do you hate me? Do you think I'm a dirty, disgusting whore that needs to be eliminated from existance like the rest of them? That's what they think, Aya. I'm not worht the cost of my shoelaces. They all hate me. Do you, Aya? Or are you a happy little individual? You're a conformist, Aya Fujimaya. You believe what they tell you to and you feel how they tell you to feel and you think what they tell you to think! You're a disgusting little toy just like me, Aya? How does it feel?"  
  
And there's my rant for the day. It happened so often now. I would start rambling on about how I felt and once I let just a little out, it all flowed out of me like poking a needle into a water-balloon.   
  
His eyes grew wide and I knew I'd hit something. It made me continue, though a little calmer this time.  
  
"Do you see now, Abyssian? Do you recognize the pain of being used? How it feels like to be played a toy car? What its like to be me? Imagine it, Aya. Can you imagine multiplying that feeling and having it there constantly every single waking moment? That's what it feels like to be cute little innocent Kenken."  
  
"I know how it feels to be used, Ken. You used me just two days ago, remember? You used me as a way of getting sympathy. I don't know why you did it, but you did and yes, I hate you, but not because I was told to. I hate you because you want me to. I think you want me to feel some sort of emotion for you and if it's love or hate, it doesn't really make a difference, does it?"  
  
"What the hell do you know?! Did your father hate you? Did your mother think you were a pathetic slut? Did the only person you ever thought loved you betray and try to kill you? Did the only person you ever wanted to love you tell you they hated you? No, they didn't, Aya. Your parents are dead, but they loved you. Your sister's in a coma, but she loves you. There's three people, Aya, that love you more than anything else in the world and you take that for granted! They would do anything just so you would be happy because they love you!   
  
"What's it like having everyone you know hate you? You don't know, Aya. You don't know shit so don't you dare start accusing me off bullshiting you. I never wanted anyone to know about what happened twelve years ago, but you just had to find out because I had an emotional breakdown. You're the only one in the world that knows the truth other than me and my father and if you just want to believe what he wants you to, I'll kindly ask you to go fuck yourself," I said all of this in the coldest but most emotion-filled voice I'd ever used. I think Aya was surprised. I kept surprising him more and more and he was finally finding out that there's a shit load of layers to Ken Hidaka that don't meet the eye.  
  
He opened his mouth to say something, but someone knocked on the door, interrupting him.   
  
"Mr. Hidaka?" a timid nurse asked, stepping in nervously, " I'm sorry to bother you, but you have another guest,"she stepped aside to allow the other man in and left. I froze the second I saw him. He stood there, his face expressionless, his eyes emotionless, his hair streaked with gray, but there was no denying who it was.  
  
I screamed at the top of my lungs. 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
"Hello, Ken," my father, Keiichi Hidaka said, ignoring my scream of terror. Where the hell were the nurses? Didn't they hear me scream? Aya looked at my father in confusion.  
  
"Nononononononononononono, you can't be here. You weren't supposed to find me. You were supposed think I'm dead so that I never have see you again. Why are you here? You shouldn't be here. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away." I was talking in that lost little boy voice I had used during my little episode with Aya the other night. I was scared to death of my father.  
  
"Can we have a moment alone, please?" My father said to Aya. My (not mine. never ever mine) beautiful redhead left the room, leaving me alone with my father.  
  
"Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. You killed Mommy. You're a bad man. You hurt me. Please don't hurt. I try to be good, Daddy, but it just doesn't work. I don't mean to do anything wrong, Daddy, but I always do. Please don't hurt me, Daddy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Daddy."  
  
He walked over and pulled me into his arms comfortingly. This confused me and I whimpered. My father had never held me before. He never even touched me unless he was beating me or the few times he'd raped me when he was drunk.  
  
"You're going to come home with me, musuko(1). You should have stayed with me, Ken. It's alright, though. We're going home now," he said quietly in my ear as he ran his hands through my hair. I tried to break out of my trance, tell him that I hated him and that I would never go anywhere with him, but all I could do was talk gibberish in a childish voice and whimper.  
  
"No, Daddy. I like it here. Everyone still hurts me, except Aya, but I like it here. Isn't Aya pretty, Daddy? Here, people pretend to like me, Daddy. No one loves me, though, but you told me that I'm not worthy of love, so I don't really mind as much anymore. I want to be with Aya, Daddy. He's so pretty and I get to look at him all the time and sometimes I imagine he loves me. It feels nice when I dream about him being nice to me, Daddy. He's all warm and gentle, but dreams are just wishes that the heart makes and my wishes never come because I don't deserve it, right, Daddy? I'm a bad little boy and bad little boys don't deserve love and should be punished. Are you going to punish me, Daddy? Did I do something wrong again? I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm so sorry."  
  
"Ken," he whispered, still running his hands through my hair, "It's alright now. I got help, got off alcohol, cleaned up my life, and almost came clean about your mother, but I wanted to be with you, Ken. I came here to apologize. You're beautiful, Ken. You look just like your mother and all of that stuff I said when you were young, it wasn't true. You do deserve love, Ken. Everyone does. I was a moron, Ken. I hurt you and you never deserved any of it, you hear me? You're a good person."  
  
That broke my trance. I cried heavily.  
  
"No, I'm not. I'm not, Dad. I'm dirty. I'm a whore and I'm pathetic. I hate myself. I can barely stand to look in the mirror and even when I do, there's always stuff written on it or it's all foggy so that I can't see what I really look like," I sobbed into his chest.  
  
He stroked my back and talked quietly, soothingly, the way a father should talk to his crying son.  
  
"It's not your fault, Ken. It's mine. It's all my fault. I'm a bad person, not you. I know I don't deserve it, but will you... forgive me?"  
  
"Dad?" I asked softly, snuggling against his chest, "Do you love me?"  
  
"Yes, Ken. I love you very much."  
  
"I love you too, Dad And I forgive you."  
  
I wasn't sure if I ever truly hated my father. In my opinion, it's hard to hate someone who gave you life, but there are others who would disagree. I felt better, for reason. Like suddenly, my life wasn't completely unlivable. I wanted to live with my Dad. I wanted to be with him and make up for the time together we lost, visit Mom's grave, carry on the family business, maybe. I just wanted to have a real family.  
  
But I was afraid. What if he betrayed me like Kase? What if it was all a lie so that I would be his whore again and help him persuade his associates to do things for him? What if he raped me again? I know I would break.  
  
"So you'll come home with me?" he asked softly, pulling away so that he could look at my tear-stained face and into my watery eyes.  
  
I got my eyes and coloring from him, but I got everything else from my mother, that's for sure. I sighed heavily and nodded. He smiled broadly, taking me slightly aback. I had never seen my father smile before.  
  
"I'm trusting you, Dad. Please don't betray my trust. I... I just couldn't take it. Everyone I've ever trusted has hurt me, Dad. I just couldn't recover again."  
  
Dad kissed my forehead and smiled at me before turning to leave the room and prepare for me to come home.  
  
Home.  
  
I'd never had a real home before.  
  
Aya walked in when Dad was gone. He looked at me with concern. I smiled slightly, the first real smile in a long time.  
  
"I'm going home," I breathed happily, looking up at him. He nodded. I licked my lower lip and paused. I sighed and smiled excitedly.  
  
"I'm going home, Aya. I have a home."  
  
  
  
  
  
(1) musuka - son 


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue  
  
Dad was putting the last of my stuff into the van while I looked around the apartment to make sure I didn't forget anything. My bike and furniture had already been shipped to Okinawa where Dad lived, so there wasn't much stuff left. I'd found three soccer balls so far, but I still could find my favorite one. It was black and red and had been a gift from the guys for Christmas last year. The ball itself wasn't very expensive, but they didn't want to spend a lot of money on me so they'd all pitched in. Still, it was special to me.  
  
Omi was in the kitchen, hiding my ball under his shirt. I noticed and stood just behind the door and shouted, "Has anyone seen my black and red ball?! I'm not leaving without it!!" I peeked and saw Omi grinning devilishly. I ran in and tackled him, wrestling my ball away form him.  
  
"It's mine!" I shouted, but he didn't let go.  
  
"You can't have it! I don't want you to leave!"  
  
I got the ball away and looked down at him, strandling his stomach. He was pouting and about to cry.  
  
"Omi-chan, I'll visit and I'll write and I'll call. You guys are my best friends, even though you don't consider me your friend."  
  
"Kritiker told us not to get too close to you, but we didn't listen. They told us you were easily expendible and a toy so we shouldn't get too attached. Guess we didn't follow orders, because I am going to miss you, Ken. You're my best friend." He was crying, poor guy. I hugged him tightly, not letting go of my ball. (It's mine, dammit, and I'm sick of people taking what's mine away from me.)  
  
Yoji walked in, shrugged, and got down on the floor with us and joined in our hug.  
  
"Gonna miss you, Kenken," he muttered, but I noticed the way he was looking at Omi. He'd get over the sex fast, but I think he might've actually meant he'd miss ME as in me: the person, not me: the toy.  
  
I stood up, trying not to cry. I was leaving everything behind to go back to the nothing I'd started out with. I was scared out of my mind, I felt like aiming a video camera up my nose, then dropping it and running away screaming in a dark forest. {1}  
  
Sorry. I just had to do that. I apologize.  
  
Not really. _ 


End file.
